


strawberry delight

by Emeka



Category: Fire Emblem: Shin Monshou no Nazo | Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Emblem
Genre: Fantasizing, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeka/pseuds/Emeka
Summary: Yubello starts his first heat. Camus tries hard to behave himself.
Relationships: Kamyu | Camus/Yubello | Jubelo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 7





	strawberry delight

Bad luck all around. For a boy to not only start his heat, but his first, while traveling from battlefield to battlefield, that medicine can only do so much to relieve as his body adjusts... bad luck. Add to it: while Marth’s inner circle are almost certainly trustworthy around the boy, there are still the anonymous rank-and-file. Camus--- _Sirius_ \---knows the typical aptitude of men in war. Anything goes. For the little prince of another nation, even more so.

They take an early camp they can ill afford to take, once Yubello is ablaze with the worst of the fever. Marth’s order. Not one Sirius would make himself. The worst Yubello will be in the caravan is uncomfortable, and they need to gain as much distance as possible. But it is comfort Marth wants the boy to have.

Sirius volunteers himself as a guard. He has already taken responsibility for him and his sister, so it seems natural. And he is strong enough alone to fend off anyone he might have to.

As preparations are made to settle in for the night, he takes care of his charge. Others bring water, dinner, an extra serving of dinner, fresh clothes. His own body is on the opposite side of the spectrum, and responds in a frustratingly predictable way. The young prince smells like strawberry and spun sugar. The strength of it never fades into the background. It’s just... there, tickling his nose and brain, warming his body from the inside, as he persuades him to sip water, and get down what little food he can.

Yubello does not speak to him. His skin is so hot it’s a wonder to Sirius he is conscious at all. At least he’s less aware this way. Otherwise things might get somewhat embarrassing for them both. He’s aware of the painful push of his sex against his trousers, and glimpses a smaller straining in Yubello’s clothing while he fitfully tosses and turns.

Soon the back of his clothing is wet through.

Sirius undresses him with care to neither stare nor linger. Shirt off. Trousers off. Socks. Smallclothes. Call to have them picked up and washed. Then change him into one of several nightshirts he’ll go through throughout the night. But he can’t help noticing things. The smell of strawberries glazed in pink pink sugar has blown his sense sky-high.

His skin is soft as kitten’s fur, with the steamy humidity of midsummer. Each curve of him perfectly formed for a young boy’s body, with pads of baby fat, in shades of milk and pale peony. The incomprehensible noises from his throat ping on his nerves like a beckoning plea.

Sirius... _Camus_... is not a man who would ever take advantage of a child. The vulgar genetics of his body disgusts him. It feels like a failure of willpower that he can’t stop himself from seeing, even if he does not stare, or keep himself soft. That treacherous part reminds him that if Marth truly wants Yubello to be comfortable, there is a way to do it that would only take a moment. 

In a few hours Yubello has wet through another gown, and another, and another. It becomes mental torture to change him out and sponge bathe the thickest of the mess from the round mounds of his buttocks, between his thighs, from the tiny shivering penis and smooth, tight testicles. It is harder not to stare. Worse, it is harder not to linger. The smell is driving him half out of his mind. What’s left repeats a mantra; don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. He is a worthier man than this. Nyna would hate him if she ever knew. Think of the trauma he’d put him through.

When Yubello seems stable enough for a moment he crawls out of the tent on his hands and knees, realizing only in the cool night air that his hair is drenched with his own sweat, the curls lying heavily on his temples and ears. It’s late enough that he sees no one walking around, and no attention-getting torches have been lit. Dark. Private. If he is quick he can achieve a little relief without anyone knowing. He’s never been this hard before in his life. Perhaps he’ll be calmer afterward. Think clearer.

He unlaces himself with fumbling fingers and pulls out his straining erection. Just getting it out of all that pressure reverberates a sensation like pleasure through his shaft. Just get it over with. But he finds even as he strokes himself he must be careful. His mind wants nothing more than to return to what he has spent the last several hours dealing with, the scent of which remains bright and strong behind him. It’s like a race against himself, jerking faster, faster, attempting to climax before before the unwanted images rise to mind.

Yubello, soft, hot, _wet_ , body wanting and ripe now for breeding. Hard and silky-looking nipples on an unformed chest. The pink between his buttocks he saw at the edge of his vision as he washed him. So small. And yet he must be ready to be taken.

Is he really no better than even this?

When he comes his mind is blissfully silent for one moment, filled only with a blinding white light. Then all he’s left with is a pervasive sense of wrongness and a palmful of his semen he smears into the dirt. The ache of his groin is reduced to a pleasant throb, but he knows already it will return. That smell is heavy on the back of his tongue, dripping into his throat.

It’s going to be a long night.


End file.
